


Clouds in the Sky

by erikaelencia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Romance, Crossover, F/F, F/M, Female Harry Potter, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Multi, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 11:01:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11012103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erikaelencia/pseuds/erikaelencia
Summary: In which a girl meets a skylark during her scarce time outside of her magical, gilded cage and things aren't quite the same ever again. A romance told in drabbles with a bit of plot here and there- Fem!Harry/Hibari.





	1. Chapter 1

_ “Freedom...only those deprived of it know what it really is.” -Anonymous _

 

* * *

 

 

 

Harriet Potter is a great many things.

 

She is the Girl-Who-Lived.

 

She is a hero.

 

She is a freak.

 

She is strong.

 

She is a Gryffindor- she is brave.

 

But she is not free. 

 

Harry has always been tied down by something, everything. 

 

When she was young she had been- still is- to the Dursley's, subject to their every whim and desire. She had been tied by the chains of their fear- forced into her little cupboard and made to do their menial tasks like a servant. They subjugated her- tried to make her into less than what she was.

 

When Harry first entered Hogwarts, it should have been better. She should have been able to do what she wanted, but alas she had only entered a more gilded cage. 

 

It  _ was _ better, of course, but now her chains came not in the form of fear but in expectations- she was not the  _ little freak _ anymore, but now she was The Girl-Who-Lived. She had to be the best of the best, she had to be the savior of the wizarding world. She had to live up to all the books and expectations of her adoring fans- she had to be as clever as Lily Evans and as daringly charming as James Potter. 

 

Even her friends had images for her to live up to- Hermione expected her to be the ultimate paragon of goodness and even Ron saw the visage of the Dark Lord’s bane before he ever saw Harriet Potter.

 

Hermione tried, really, she did, but Harry knew not to expect too much from her best friend and she had long since given up on ever fully shedding the picturesque views Ron held for her. 

 

The bottom line still remained- Harry was always caged. She was always traveling from one cage to another, from Number Four Privet Drive to Hogwarts to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. 

 

And that, perhaps, is the reason why she cannot take her eyes off of  _ him _ at this present moment. 

 

Of course, Harry is not the only one staring at him. 

 

Aunt Petunia had sent her out to buy the groceries- apparently not even her ever-growing magical powers were enough to save Harry from her chores. She had had a few pounds left over, just enough to buy herself some tea at a local cafe without arousing too much suspicion. 

 

She had gone to one of the cheaper cafes of Little Whinging- a small, quiet place that served a more eastern selection of teas. There hadn't been very many patrons present at the cafe, but there was one in particular that had caught everyone’s eye.

 

He was of clear Asian descent, with much sharper features than the beautiful Cho Chang and eyes a lovely shade of blue-ish silver. He was tall, easily towering over Harry’s small form. 

 

However, it wasn't his beauty that had truly caught Harry’s eye like it had in the case of the cafe’s other occupants.

 

No, what has entranced Harry is the way he moved.

 

Harry had always thought that you could tell a lot about a person from the way they moved. 

 

Aunt Petunia, for example, moved as though she was some kind of a spoiled queen- with snobbishly exaggerated steps and her chin held far too high on a neck far too long. 

 

Dumbledore, on the other hand, moved with experience. Genial and quiet in his steps with a certain weary tension that could only be obtained through countless years of blood and war. 

 

Snape, the old bat, moved with what Harry could only describe as shame. His head was held just a bit lower than what one would expect from a prideful Slytherin, his steps weighed down by what Harry thought to be some sort of loathing- for the alternative was only too human for such a man.  _ Sorrow _ . 

 

This man (boy?) was an elegance of an entirely different sort. 

 

Each step he took as he picked up his order- simple jasmine tea- was taken with the utmost deliberation- not even an ounce of energy was wasted. 

 

He moved as though he knew himself to be the most powerful in the room- like a predator who could strike fear in the heart of whomever he so chose. 

 

_ Like a carnivore surrounded by a pack of helpless herbivores _ .

 

But most of all- he moved as though he had freedom in its greatest form. 

 

There was nothing tying him down- he did as he pleased. His eyes betrayed only cool confidence but Harry thought that she could see something more- dominance, control and so much more that she couldn't quite put a name to. 

 

Harry wasn’t quite sure how long she had been staring at him- certainly not as long as her fellow admirers. 

 

But, of course,  _ she _ would be the one to be noticed.

 

For it was then that their gazes met, cloudy-silver clashing with emerald-green, and Harry wondered if Voldemort really was so scary after all. 


	2. Chapter 2

“ _ True freedom is always spiritual. It has something to do with your innermost being, which cannot be chained, handcuffed, or put into a jail.” - Osho _

 

* * *

 

 

Harry likes to think that she's good at reading people. People rarely ever said what they wanted, after all. 

 

Like when Ron would say that he was fine with whatever had happened when he was really not- when he was really burning with jealousy and self-righteous anger. It was all in the eyebrows and the set of the jaw, you see. 

 

The Dursleys are yet another example of the importance of body language. If Uncle Vernon took heavier steps than usual and his fingers were twitching at his sides then he was more likely to go get a drink or two. That was a good thing to know- Harry liked knowing when to stay away and when to stay near so that he wouldn't have to keep shouting for ‘the freak’ to do something or another. 

 

Hermione too. If she was biting her nails or her lip then Harry knew to comfort her or to ask what was wrong, but if her eyes were just slightly glazed over in thought and she was playing with her hair just a bit too much then Harry knew that she should leave her friend to her much-desired books. 

 

The bloke in front of her?

 

He was  _ curious _ . 

 

His head was tilted ever so slightly as his piercing gaze captured her own. He held no indications of letting her gaze go- he seemed like the type to hold onto it for no other reason than because she looked so entirely enraptured in  _ him _ and not anything- anyone- else. 

 

The possessive type, it seemed. 

 

However, there was also something about looking into his eyes, in stealing his gaze for herself, that exhilarated Harry beyond belief. 

 

For here was this man, this beautiful man, who was looking at  _ Harry _ because she is  _ Harry _ and not because of something she had done when she was hardly even a year old. 

 

He was not looking at the scar carefully hidden behind her bangs. No, he was looking at messy black curls and emerald green eyes, at a too-small form with too-big glasses. 

 

Harry almost wished that he would never look away.

 

But then, hypocritically, she became aware of her cheeks feeling as though they had caught fire and dropped her gaze in her embarrassment. 

 

The thought occurred to her that she probably looked the way Lavender Brown did when the other girl was mooning over the various males that populated Hogwarts. 

 

It was not a pleasant thought. 

 

Her heart hammering in her chest, Harry turned to the counter. It was a complete coincidence that she ordered jasmine tea- she was not doing it because of the handsome stranger whose eyes had not yet left her. 

 

It was not because her mind was set on him and his terribly lovely features, nor was it because of the way his mere existence made her feel at this very moment. 

 

It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that it had been his order of jasmine tea that had allowed for her to watch his graceful movements- no, that sounded  _ far _ too creepy. 

 

(She was  _ not _ Colin Creevey, thank you very much.)

 

It was just because she wanted some jasmine tea. 

 

(Or so she told herself, at least.)

 

She shot another glance at him- it was hard not to. Which was okay, she wasn’t the only one staring at the exotic stranger. 

 

He looked just a tad- okay, maybe a bit more than a ‘tad’ bit- amused at her course of actions. 

 

Harry’s glance turned into a glare. This was absolutely  _ not _ amusing. 

 

He raised an eyebrow in response, a glint of a challenge in his eyes.  _ Do you really think you can scare me, little animal?  _ they asked. 

 

Harry ‘hmph’d under her breath. She was plenty scary- he just didn’t know it. 

 

Harry didn’t think that was possible for him to look any more amused than he already did- he proved her wrong. 

 

Purposefully looking away this time, she was  _ not _ his source of entertainment, Harry’s attention was instead brought to his hands.

 

A person’s hands could tell an observer about more than just a personality- they told a life story. Harry’s hands, for example, told of bitterly hard work done with too little experience with their callouses and cooking-scars. Hermione’s hands were clearly that of a bookworm- soft and delicate and littered with paper cuts, whereas Ron’s were the clumsy tools of a not-quite matured boy, but were beginning to change and become those of a more mature young man. 

 

His were very nice hands, with long fingers that Harry might have associated with delicate wand-work had she not known him to be a muggle- most of him was indeed very nice, and no, she was  _ not _ turning into Lavender Brown- but what caught her attention was the beautifully ornate ring resting upon his finger. 

 

It was as elegant as it was gaudy, though it also held a strange sort of subtlety that Harry had a hard time describing. It was as though it had been made for him and only him, though she could not fathom why she thought so. 

 

The ring looked familiar enough; Harry thought that she had seen something similar to it before. 

 

And then it hit her. 

 

“ _ Are you married? _ ”

 

* * *

 

 

**Oh my gods. I cannot believe how amazing this fic’s reception turned out to be- seriously. This is insane. Thank you all so much!**

 

**On updating schedules- I don’t think this will have much of a schedule. I really just write whenever I feel inspired to do so, but if I do end up making a set updating schedule then I’ll let you guys know.**


	3. Chapter 3

_ “Just as the great oceans have but one taste, the taste of salt, so too there is but one taste fundamental to all true teachings of the way, and this is the taste of freedom.” — Buddha _

* * *

 

 

If someone had decided to write a list of places where Hibari Kyoya did not want to be right now, then Little Whinging, Surrey would likely be somewhere at the top of it- right behind ‘anywhere within ten miles of Rokudo Mukuro’. 

 

Hibari hardly even knew  _ why _ he was here- or to be more specific,  _ how _ Sawada Tsunayoshi had managed to convince him to do this.

 

Something about a paperwork-free excursion to Namimori in the near future, which is probably worth Hibari’s current headache. 

 

The assignment was simple in theory- go to the main base of a mafia family- that just so happened to have decided that a small town in England would be the  _ perfect _ base of operations- and negotiate territories and alliances with them. 

 

Now, normally such a task would not have fallen to him. However, it seemed that all of the usual go-to options were unavailable on this particular date.

 

It was just his luck that all the other Guardians had been away on that particular date.

 

“ _ Kyoya, I’m really, really sorry about this but you’re kinda my only option here,” _ Sawada had pleaded. 

“ _ No.” _

 

_ “...I’ll schedule an extra vacation to Namimori this year. _ ”

 

“ _ No.” _

 

_ “A  _ two week _ extra vacation to Namimori this year?” _

 

_ “...fine.” _

 

Now, it should be noted that Hibari is perfectly capable of taking a vacation to Namimori on his own without any sort of permission from his Sky.

 

However, it is also important to note that such a trip would not free him from his responsibilities as the leader of the newly formed Foundation, nor would it keep him from having to deal with those annoying herbivores demanding that he come back every other second. There is only so much that Tetsuya could do on his own before Hibari had to step in, after all. 

 

A sanctioned trip, on the other hand, was free of all such obligations. Such a trip allowed for him to temporarily give his subordinates authority over the organization; i.e. it let him shove off all of his paperwork onto them so that his signature wasn’t technically required for anything. 

 

It was far less annoying and much more convenient, so it would be  _ very _ stupid of him to pass up such an opportunity. 

 

Running the Foundation was an entirely different game than the Disciplinary Committee had been. For one thing, there was  _ much _ more responsibility involved. His subordinates had to be more than just simple thugs- they had to be skilled mafiosos that could hold their own for at least a few minutes against even himself. Furthermore, the fact that it was an official organization with ties to the Vongola meant that he also had to learn to play the games of politics, which, unfortunately, could not be played with mere intimidation tactics as he had quickly learned. 

 

The mafia was like a jungle- filled to the brim with carnivores worth his note and challenges for both his body  _ and _ his mind. Though he would never admit it aloud, he was actually quite satisfied with his new lot in life. 

 

Yes, he may be just a bit more tied down by this life. But that didn’t mean that he couldn’t do what he wanted, when he wanted to. Anyone who tried to change that would be  _ bitten to death without mercy _ .

 

He  _ enjoyed _ watching his ‘powerful’ enemies flounder about with mouths agape as they realized that they had been outdone, outsmarted and utterly defeated by a nineteen-year old and his fledgeling organization. He  _ loved _ watching the realization dawn on them; the realization that in this world he was the one at the top of the food chain and that they are but the poor little grazers at the very bottom. 

 

Though, this time might just be the exception to that little rule. 

 

This famiglia, the Brunnegem, were very well aware that they were herbivores. They knew that he could kill them within a minute. They knew that their delicate necks wouldn’t last a minute against his tonfas. The glimmer of nerves in the upper echelon's eyes was telling enough- they knew just how easy it would be for him to bite them to death. 

 

It would have been simple to just terrify them into signing the alliance-renewal contracts and leave, but  _ no, of course not _ . These herbivores actually had spines. Weak ones, sure, but they were there. 

 

The blunt truth is that they actually did have one over on him (not that his pride is very happy with that little tidbit). These people may have been weak in mind, but they did have influence. Too much influence and territory. And they also knew full well exactly how necessary this alliance was to the Vongola- the Brunnegem could get away with declining and shutting off negotiations just fine, but the Vongola could not. 

 

With the underworld changing as it was, the Vongola needed to have a firmer foothold in England- the center of all these uprisings. Power was shifting, but no one quite knew how it was happening. 

 

And even if this wasn’t an issue, then there was also the fact that Brunnegem’s Italian territory directly bordered upon the Vongola’s territory. There  _ had _ been an alliance between the two groups but it was tentative and unstable, and recently expired on top of all that. 

 

If he did the sensible thing here and ridded the world of these worthless, greedy rats then he risked starting a war between the Vongola and whatever factions of the Brunnegem remained organized enough to attack. 

 

While the Vongola would certainly come out on top, especially with the Foundation and admittedly the Varia by their side, not only would such a conflict serve to distract them from more important things but it would also exponentially increase his workload. 

 

Hibari already had enough paperwork hampering time that could be better spent training or biting herbivores to death. He did not need to make it any more annoying for himself. 

 

They were just as aware of all this as he was. Hibari had to play by their rules or there would be consequences.

 

He  _ hated _ playing by the rules of others. Especially by the rules of those who were unworthy of even his very presence. 

 

Sawada will pay for convincing him to enter this situation. (Even if it  _ was _ Hibari’s own choice to do so.)

 

Because of him, Hibari was now stuck with  _ seven _ interspersed meetings for ‘good luck’. Meaning that he probably wouldn’t be back in Italy until late in the summer. 

 

He had very seriously considered just leaving and letting some other Guardian handle this once they came back from their varying assignments. 

 

But of course, one call from Sawada had put a damper on that. It wasn’t that he was weak enough to be swayed by anymore bribery or anything of the sort. 

 

No, it was that he had  _ never _ heard Sawada sound so stressed in the entirety of their years of acquaintance. The little animal was at his breaking point- he was being spread too thin by the mysterious power shifts occurring across the world and the absence of the rest of the Guardians was also taking its toll upon the seventeen year old Decimo. 

 

( _ And maybe the property damage from Hibari’s last fight with Rokudo was just a bit too much to handle.) _

 

Sawada had sounded desperate, more desperate than he had sounded since the very beginning of their involvement in the mafia. For this alliance to work out and for there to be no further problems. He was tired and almost-defeated and something in Hibari  _ ached _ at listening to his Sky in such a state. 

 

And so Hibari found himself staying in England for a longer-than-acceptable period of time. 

 

Of course, it wasn’t all that terrible. 

 

For one thing, there was this one little cafe that he had discovered while exploring the town for the first time. 

 

The tea there suited his tastes very well and certainly made his stay much more tolerable than it would have been otherwise. It was small and quiet as well- hardly any crowding to deal with. While the staring of the local patrons was rather irritating, Hibari also knew that it was to be expected. He was, after all, a foreigner in a small town- it would be more strange if he  _ didn’t _ get stared at all the time. 

 

It was on his third or so visit that things began to get interesting. 

 

The excursion started as it always did. 

 

He ordered his favored jasmine tea and dealt with the curious stares as he waited by the counter. A younger Hibari may have bitten them all to death just for this minor irritation, but this older, more experienced version had a bit more patience. 

 

Only a bit, though. 

 

The chimes on the door rang, signaling the entrance of another customer as he went to pick up his tea. 

 

It was a girl, small and lanky with wild black curls and startlingly green eyes covered by too-large glasses- an appearance that reminded him of the little cow that was waiting for his ‘Kyoya-nii’ to come home back in Italy. 

 

It was endearing, the way she was staring at him with such an oblivious attraction. She probably didn’t even notice how obvious she was being. 

 

Her stare didn’t bother him as much as the others. He always did have a thing for small and cute things. 

 

He met her stare on a whim- he could have just continued looking over the proposed tonfa upgrades that the blonde gearhead had sent him, but something told him that this would be a much more amusing course of action. 

 

She did not disappoint. 

 

Her connection to Lambo Bovino melted away from his mind, replaced by an image of Sawada Tsunayoshi. For while he could clearly see the beginnings of a schoolgirl crush in her eyes, he could also see so much  _ more _ .

 

There was some kind of a fire in her eyes- restrained, resigned but still burning with the strength of a Dying Will. Stubborn, determined, analytical. 

 

He wondered what they would look like if it was set loose upon the world. Her eyes were those of an omnivore- not quite at the top of the chain but also not weak enough to be called an herbivore. She could be so much more, he thought, and it would be beautiful to watch. 

 

There was potential. So much potential. She reminded him of Sawada in the beginning- an herbivore that could easily blossom into a carnivore. 

 

Her eyes widened and she dropped her gaze. It seemed that she finally became aware of the cherry red blush upon her cheeks, he noted in amusement. 

 

“Jasmine tea, please,” the girl ordered. Her voice was pleasant, a soft, accented sound that anyone could appreciate. 

 

The fact that she ordered the same thing as him did not escape him. Was she really so taken by him as to base her own decisions of his?

 

A herbivorous action.

 

Though, it was obvious that she was not a civilian. She seemed too wary in the way she stood and stepped- as though someone could attack her at any moment. She clearly wasn’t entirely comfortable in her own skin, but she did not move with any sort of inexperience.

 

If he had to liken her to anything by this first impression then it would be a deer- soft in appearance but capable of lashing out in a flurry of horns and hooves when backed into a corner. 

 

The girl made a noise of protest and glared at him, his lack of effort in hiding his amusement clearly grating on her nerves. 

 

It was funny, the way that she thought that her glare could intimidate him into looking away. It almost made him overlook her previous careless action. 

 

She huffed again, her emerald gaze dropping to his hands. Her gaze homed in on the Vongola Cloud ring, recognition dancing across her eyes.

 

She was in the mafia, then. Unexpected- she did not seem like the ‘mafioso’ type. But then again, appearances were deceiving.

 

“ _ Are you married? _ ” she blurted out.

 

Hibari choked on his tea. 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

_ “Freedom is rare in the universe, as it is in your own world. This is the great truth that you will have to face, in contrast perhaps to your expectations, hopes and wishes.” — Life in the Universe _

* * *

 

If a Death Eater showed up to ‘Avada Kedavra’ Harry right this moment, she isn’t quite sure that she’d be dodging it so eagerly. 

 

After all, she did just ask a random  _ muggle _ stranger if he was married. Because of some over-the-top ring on his finger. Never mind that he looked like he couldn't be any older than twenty and muggles hardly ever married so early.

 

This wasn't wizarding society. There wasn't anything magical about this place, nor was there anything magical about him.

 

And judging by the way that he choked on his tea at her words? Yeah, she was definitely wrong…

 

Good job, Harry. Excellent conversation starter, mate. 

 

“Um,” she began hesitantly. “You're okay, right?”

 

She received a withering glare in response, very nearly shrinking back. If Malfoy’s similarly grey- though nowhere near as pretty- eyes had been capable of glaring in such a way then he might have been as successful at intimidation as he thought himself to be. “I am fine.”

 

“That's good. I’m, um, sorry about that,” Harry apologized, straightening herself and gathering her bearings. She couldn't be taken aback by a mere glare- she was better than that. “That was a stupid question.” 

 

He nodded, acknowledging her words. “It was. Do not do that again.” 

 

His English was lightly accented, she noted. A foreigner, then? She didn't exactly know all the residents of Little Whinging. Though, she probably would have remembered someone like him.

 

Harry nodded. “Harriet Potter,” she felt the need to introduce.

 

He didn't react. “Hibari Kyoya.” 

 

Harry reveled in the lack of response, in the way that his expression didn't change.

 

“You're relieved,” he noted. The  _ why? _ went unspoken. 

 

Harry shrugged. “I don't know. I'm tired, I guess. Of people knowing me.” 

 

They said that strangers made the best conversationalists. You can tell a stranger anything in the world and it won't come back to bite you in the arse.

 

Perhaps that was why Harry’s lips felt so free?

 

“You've just contradicted yourself,” Hibari pointed out. “You gave me your name. I know you now.”

 

Harry pondered that thought. He was right- even a mere name could tell you a lot about a person. “But you only know  _ me _ , not what the me that everyone else does,” she paused. “That doesn't make much sense, does it?”

 

“No,” he said, taking another sip from his tea. His lips were quirking up, as though he found her words to be especially amusing. “It makes enough sense.”

 

“Oh,” she replied smartly. “Okay.” 

 

Harry was then called to pick up her own tea.

 

They drank in silence.

 

It was the best time Harry’s had in months. 

* * *

 

It was the third dinner she’s spent at Number Four Privet Drive since the end of her fifth year. 

 

Aunt Petunia had decided to cook herself this time, leaving Harry to merely do today’s cleaning. 

 

Harry was served a small, meager portion befitting her petite size and station within the household. Dudley and Uncle Vernon ate like kings, their plates piled high with rich meats and cheeses. Aunt Petunia prepared herself a fancy-looking salad- to maintain her figure beautiful figure, she said.

 

Harry could not find anything about Aunt Petunia beautiful.

 

Dinner was well underway when the woman decided to speak up. “Mrs.Wellington told me that you were having tea with the foreigner, girl,” Aunt Petunia began. “With  _ our _ money. I didn't give you that money for you to enjoy yourself with. You ought to be ashamed of yourself!” 

 

Harry nodded. Ashamed? She only spent four pounds. Dudley spent more in an hour than she did in a month. 

 

Of course, she didn't say as much. She knew how they would respond. 

 

Dudley laughed loudly, chunks of food flying out from his mouth. The action was much more annoying and disgusting on him than it was on Ron, Harry decided. “The foreigner has horrible taste in people. If he had any  _ real _ taste at all, then he’d be with me and my friends! We’re the ones to know in town.” 

 

The usage of the word ‘the’ did not escape Harry. It seemed that everyone knew of Hibari Kyoya’s presence- but at least he hadn't been speaking with Dudley.

 

Not only would she feel bad for him for having to suffer through the pig’s company, but it also felt nice. Having something that Dudley didn't, that is. 

 

Uncle Vernon froze, narrowing his eyes at her. “The foreigner?? What was his name?! Answer me, freak!” 

 

Uncle Vernon was getting angry. Had he met Hibari before? “Hibari Kyoya.” There was no use in getting him any angrier- that wouldn't end well for Harry.

 

The large man visibly reacted to the name, flinching so far as to rock his chair. Something akin to fear glimmered in his eyes- almost as much as what she recalled seeing in the squinty things when Hagrid had first shown up. 

 

Uncle Vernon tried to cover the expression up, tried to put on a brave face, but Harry saw right through him. “O-of course, monsters like you would band together! Never speak to him again, you hear me?!”

 

Hibari, a monster? Was she wrong about him, then? About him being a muggle? No, she couldn't be, Vernon would not know of him if she was. 

 

Harry nodded, biting back a retort. “I understand.”

 

The portly man turned back to his family. “That goes for you too, Petunia, Dudders. Don't even look at that man. He's, he's,” he struggled to find the right word, “-dangerous.”

 

* * *

 

Harry cheerfully greeted Hibari Kyoya at the cafe the next day.

 

* * *

 

 

**A/N**

 

**Still floored by the wonderful response to this story- thank you all so much!**

 

**By the way, if you'd like to read an excellent KHR fanfiction then I would highly suggest Natripper’s lovingly written** **_Inside The Facility_ ** **, whose third chapter is currently in the works.**

 

**Ciao!**


	5. Chapter 5

_ “Do not call chaos freedom, for this is not freedom. Do not think because others do not limit you that you are in an exalted state. Realize that your freedom is to enable you to find your purpose and to fulfill it.” — Steps to Knowledge _

* * *

 

Harriet Potter’s records were all fake. 

 

Hibari was nothing if not thorough, especially when it came to acquaintances of his. Harriet Potter was no exception. 

 

It was disgusting- how easy it was to tell. The records said that she went to some reform school- but that very same school did not even have her on their attendance lists, much less house her during the year. 

 

Every ‘fact’ contradicted what had already been established in previous, more legitimate files. Teachers’ notes and observations were all written in the same style- as though they were all done by one person. 

 

The most that he could get about her with any degree of certainty was that she is an orphan living with her mother’s relatives and that something had happened when she was eleven that lead to her essentially vanishing without fail during the school months following that year. 

 

It was little. Too little. Hibari  _ hated _ being uninformed. 

 

However, finding the source of the discrepancies was mere child’s play. Her male guardian, Vernon Dursley, was a mid-level member of Brunnegem. Harriet Potter’s records weren’t the only product of his sloppy work- the swine’s own son, a pig by the unfortunate name of Dudley Dursley, had the records of a fit, athletic academic accompanied by the photograph of an obese herbivore whose eyes displayed an obvious lacking in intelligence. 

 

Potter, on the other hand, was interesting. Her records were all garbage, covered up and filled with anonymity, and yet she displayed the attitude of someone who knew their own fame and was utterly done with it. 

 

He had seen the same attitude from both Sawada and the Bronco many times before with his own eyes- it was not one of someone who was the mere talk of the town. 

 

( _ “You know, Kyoya, I don’t think anyone’s called me Tsuna all day. I don’t think I like that.” _ )

 

(“ _ The next time I hear the name ‘Decimo’, I’m going to be sick, Kyoya. Why can’t they just let me be...me?” _ )

 

Yes, he knew  _ exactly _ what that look, that posture, that tone were. 

 

But the question remained-  _ who _ exactly was she?

 

Only one answer came to mind- now he just had to confirm it. 

* * *

 

“My uncle doesn’t like you, you know.”

 

Hibari was unsurprised that the girl decided to join him for tea again. She seemed to find his presence too novel to resist last time, after all.

 

Hibari ‘hn’d in acknowledgment.

 

Potter seemed to find that answer unsatisfactory. “No, it's more than that. He's  _ afraid _ of you,” she said, emphasizing the word ‘afraid’ as though it was something urgently important.

 

“Then he is not as lacking in brain cells as I had expected,” Hibari drawled dismissively. 

 

Potter frowned. “But, why?” she questioned, as though she didn't already know. As though she was entirely uninformed, as though she wasn't even in the mafia. 

 

Hibari filed that thought away for later- it still didn't make sense. “You already know,” he said in lieu of an answer. 

 

Potter’s face was a mask of perfect confusion. “No, I don't?” 

 

Hibari flicked his hand out, allowing a thin veil of Mist Flames to surround them and keep observers from eavesdropping on their conversation. He may hate illusions with a passion, but that didn't mean that he couldn't appreciate their uses.

 

“Playing innocent doesn't suit you,  _ shikā _ .” 

 

Panic began to build in her eyes. “I, I don't-”

 

It seems he hit the mark.

 

“No one else can hear us,” he interrupted. “Speak freely.” 

 

Her eyes widened ever more at the words, looking around wildly until he decided to be kind enough to let her see a small distortion, indicating the illusion’s location. “You cast a privacy ward??”

 

Now it was Hibari’s turn to be confused. “I cast a  _ what _ ?”

 

“A privacy ward! You know, a spell to keep people from listening in!” she explained in an alarmed, higher pitch. 

 

“A spell?” he questioned incredulously. “Is that what your famiglia calls  _ illusions _ now?” 

 

“That isn't an  _ illusion _ ,” she protested hotly. “That’s  _ magic _ .”

 

“Your herbivorous famiglia is even stupider than I thought.” Magic? Really? What, did they live under a rock?

 

“Famiglia? What the bloody hell is a ‘famiglia’?” Potter demanded. “And what kind of a wizard are you, to call magic an illusion?? Even my  _ muggle _ family is better than that!” 

 

“What kind of a mafiosa doesn't know what a famiglia is?” he retorted, before pausing as he processed her latter words. “Wizard,” he said, tasting the word on his tongue. Was it a British thing to be so grossly uninformed?

 

“Mafiosa?” she repeated disbelievingly. “You think I’m in the  _ mafia _ ?” 

 

“Obviously.” His patience was beginning to wear thin. “Your records are rubbish, your uncle is a mid-ranking member of the-”

 

“There's a  _ wizarding mafia _ ?!  _ Uncle Vernon  _ is a member of the  _ wizarding mafia _ !?”

 

“There is no such thing as a  _ wizarding  _ mafia. There are no wizards.” Why was he even having this conversation? He thought her to be better than this.

 

“What do you mean, there are no wizards! You're a-  _ oh _ . You're a muggle,” she said, her eyes widening with realization. “But that's impossible! You just used magic!”

 

There was that word again-  _ muggle _ . “I did not,” he said for the nth time. “I used an  _ illusion _ ,” he said slowly, putting emphasis on the distasteful word as though he was speaking to a brainless herbivore. 

 

He was careful not to use Flame terminology at this point- it seemed that the Brunnegem liked to keep even their favorites ignorant. 

 

“But that's not-  _ oh Merlin _ ,” she protested, panic rising in her voice once more. “ _ I just broke the Statute of Secrecy! _ ”

 

Now  _ this _ piqued Hibari’s interest. Deciding to test the boundaries of what she will say, he rolled his eyes as though he was certain of what she was speaking of. “You did not break Omertà, shikā.” 

 

“I’m not talking about O-whatever!” she snapped.

 

“Explain.”

 

“Don't order me around!” Emerald eyes glared at him vehemently, as though she was trying to impress the seriousness of the situation on him whilst scolding him with only a single look. She had very expressive eyes, it seemed. 

 

Hibari was unimpressed. “I will do as I please. Now explain.”

 

“I  _ can’t _ ,” she stressed. “If you don't know, then you don't know.”

 

It seemed she was unaware of her uncle’s involvement, strangely enough- hell, she was unaware of the mafia itself. There was absolutely no sign of her lying either. The emotion was too genuine. But then why would they go through such trouble to keep her hidden? 

 

And there was also this ‘wizard’ lunacy to consider. Magic, a ‘statute of secrecy’? What, has he just stumbled across a secret society of wizards and witches?

 

….that would be explain a lot, actually. Not the ‘magic’ part, but her being a part of a separate, possibly as strange as the mafia, society would explain the records and disappearances. 

 

“Rules were made to be broken, shikā.” Except his, obviously. “Tell me.”

 

“No,” she denied. “What does that even mean?  _ Shikā _ .”

 

“Deer.” 

 

When was the last time someone had denied him so easily? Hibari found himself feeling almost...refreshed. Outside of the Vongola’s upper tier and the Cavallone- and even then- hardly anyone had ever had the guts to outright say no to him and hold onto that opinion for over twenty seconds. 

 

“Oh. Wait. Why are you calling me  _ dear _ ? That’s just so…” She nearly shuddered, probably at some sort of an unpleasant reminder. She had taken the word for its other spelling, it seemed. Hibari nearly snorted- why would he of all people ever refer to someone as  _ dear _ ? He was  _ not _ the Varia’s flamboyant healer. 

 

Hibari rolled his eyes. “Wrong word.”

 

Potter’s cheeks flushed over in embarrassment- a decidedly endearing look. “Oh. I’m still not telling you anything,” she said hurriedly, trying to cover up her mistake with pure stubbornness.

 

“Yes, you will.”

 

“No, I will not!”

 

* * *

 

_ Two hours later…  _

 

“ _ Tell me.” _

 

“ _ Never! _ ”

 

The cafe owner counted the money the couple spent on tea today. It was a  _ lot _ of money. 

 

Eventually, the man stood up and sent the girl a glare that lacked any true edge. “I  _ will _ find out, Potter.”

 

The girl merely shook her head. “Nope. And call me Harry, Hibari.”

 

“Fine. I will have you tell me everything tomorrow- you’ve already wasted too much of my time.”

 

The girl smirked. “Challenge accepted.”

 

And as the strangely-silent couple that had spent their entire date glaring at each other walked away, the cafe owner could just  _ feel _ her wallet getting heavier with every mouthed word. 

 

_ Ah, young money- I mean love. Love.  _

 

* * *

 

**A/N**

**Thank you all so much for your kind reviews, follows and favorites. You guys seriously brightened my ridiculously stressful week. Honestly- screw AP exams.**

 

**Also- dearest Natripper, I hope this chap makes you feel at least a little bit better, love.**

 

**Ciao!**

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

_ “To finally make peace with your past, you must be building a new life. To finally be able to understand your past and to use it positively and constructively, you must be building a new foundation. To find freedom from the fears and anxieties that haunt you, you must have a new engagement in life.” — Living the Way of Knowledge _

* * *

 

Hibari was perhaps the strangest person Harry had ever met, aside from her dear friend Luna Lovegood and Albus Dumbledore, of course. 

 

For one thing, there was his excessive use of animal metaphors. Harry got the feeling that it probably made more sense in Japanese- but then again, Hibari didn’t make much sense. 

 

Then there was his nickname for her-  _ shikā _ . The simple Japanese sounded just right with his smooth tenor and though Harry liked hearing him saying it, the meaning behind it was… painful. 

 

Deer. It meant deer. Her father’s animagus form had been a stag- so she had come to associate the words  _ deer _ and  _ father _ . At one point it had been a comforting comparison, but now it was anything but. 

 

Harry had stopped associating the word  _ father _ with James Potter during the summer of third year. That was when she first received letters of thoughtful- nearly overprotective, but not quite- concern, awful jokes and tales of epic adventures. When, for the first time in her life, she felt loved because she was  _ Harry _ and not for any other reason at all. 

 

That was when James Potter’s face no longer came to her mind when she thought of a father. No, his face has long since been replaced by the visage of Sirius Black. 

 

She wasn’t ready to start thinking about Sirius Black again. 

 

She wasn’t ready to think about how every time she tried to activate her two way mirror, her hopes would be crushed (even if she didn’t quite know what she had been expecting each time).

 

She wasn’t ready to think about how she was the one responsible for his loss- how if she hadn’t been so  _ naive _ then maybe she’d be at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place right now, laughing at ridiculous stories in the arms of the only father she had ever known. 

 

She wasn’t ready to think about the fact that Sirius Black is dead.

 

Hibari had a way of dragging these thoughts to the forefront of her mind at one moment- then whisking her mind away from her in the next.

 

Her conversation and subsequent embarrassment had born several fruits.

 

Firstly, she now knew that Uncle Vernon was actually a member of the local mafia family that helped man one of their more legal income sources. He was also the one to mess with her school records- and Dudley’s too, go figure- for his own benefit. 

Harry would be lying if she said that she hadn’t laughed for several minutes straight when Hibari’s nose wrinkled in distaste at the mention of the  _ disgusting swines _ . 

 

Vernon wasn’t anything special, not by a longshot, but he had a high enough status that made her put his earlier words into consideration. 

 

He called Hibari a  _ monster _ , a word that is usually only reserved for wizards and witches. Hibari, however strange that ‘illusion’ ability of his was ( _ how did he even do that _ ), is most certainly  _ not _ a wizard. He didn’t even know what a  _ muggle _ was!

 

In fact, all she could get out of him is that he’s part of the mafia. When she asked about the British mafia, he merely raised an eyebrow and called them all annoying herbivores. 

 

He’s part of the Italian one, apparently. 

 

Harry then pointed out that that was terribly cliched and received an elbow jab to the gut in response. It wasn’t quite hard enough to bruise, Hibari had a very precise control over his own strength, but the movement was so smooth and refined that Harry would hardly see him as anything aside from a trained fighter. 

 

She tried asking him about what he did for a mafia, subtly fishing for an answer as to who he really was and why Vernon would consider him to be just as bad as she was. 

 

It was very hard for anyone to be as bad as she was, in his eyes. Hibari must really be something special to earn  _ that _ status. 

 

Unfortunately, the nineteen year-old- only three years older than her- saw through her attempts right off the bat and merely smirked in response. 

 

“ _ Information for information, shikā. I won’t say a word until you tell me what  _ I _ want to know. _ ”

 

It was a battle to maintain the Statute, as much as was possible at this point- Hibari was 

_ very _ good at the information game. But she wasn’t too bad either, in fact she had even gotten some personal information out of him over the past week and a half. 

 

She learned that he hailed from a town in Japan known as Namimori, that he had some acquaintances ( _ family _ , the flickers of affection in his eyes said) in Italy, that he had a pet bird and a hedgehog he called his own. 

 

Realistically, Harry knew that he was only giving her hints of information for his own benefit- making it easier for her to talk, she assumed. 

 

But that didn’t mean that she didn’t enjoy their chats- their battles of wit. She  _ loved _ the way that he only saw Harry and that, perhaps, is the reason why she was so vehement in not letting him know anymore secrets of magic. 

 

Because maybe, just maybe, if he never knows then he will never stop seeing only her. 

* * *

 

“ _ So _ , I’ve recently tried out this brand new blend of tea and I was hoping that my two  _ favorite _ customers would try it out for me~” the cafe owner, Nat, said in her usual, sing-song greedy voice. Harry could practically see the dollar signs in her eyes. 

 

Hibari nodded. Harry was suspicious. 

 

The cafe owner slid two mugs of steaming hot tea across the counter. Hibari reached out for a cup, carefully bringing it to his mouth and blowing across its surface. 

 

Harry felt like she was watching a drug deal unfold. 

 

“Wait,” she said firmly, eying the mugs. Hibari looked over at her, asking  _ why are you interrupting my tea, herbivore  _ with his eyes. Harry figured it was ‘Hibari’ for a pout. 

 

“How much are these?” Harry questioned slowly. 

 

“Five pounds each,” the woman answered cheerfully, as though the amount was perfectly normal for a cup of tea. 

 

“ _ What _ ? No, that’s way too much, I can’t-”

 

“Acceptable,” Hibari interrupted, placing the aforementioned money on the counter. 

 

Harry looked at him incredulously. 

 

Hibari shrugged. “It’s  _ tea _ ,” he said, as though that explained everything. Nat nodded enthusiastically. 

 

Harry felt the strangest urge to bang her head against the wall. 

 

“ _ Wait, _ just  _ when _ exactly did I say you could pay for me?!”

* * *

 

 

 


End file.
